Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names of the superstars mentioned
except Jezebel who I created, the rest are owned by the WWE and Vince
McMahon
"It's cold!" Sara squeaked out, wrapping her arms around herself. Mark couldn't help laughing at his wife. She looked indignantly up at him and smacked him in the chest. "What are you laughing at? I know it was a girlie- stating-of-the-obvious, but shit it's cold!" She unknotted the green hooded jacket from around her waist and pulled it on, zipping it up tightly. The goose bumps began disappearing but still. "Just like before" she murmured.
The feeling of inner coldness was the same as when Mark had said that name. They were on her territory, Sara smothered a grin, they were in her yard. Mark was looking around, everything was so gray and there didn't appear to be any lighting fixtures. She kept her world in darkness.
"Which way do you think?" he asked
Sara shrugged her shoulders in response. "How should I know? She's your sister"
"She's my twin" he absent-mindedly corrected her
Sara spun around to face him, her eyes wide. "She's your twin? And you didn't tell me this because."
"Because of what she is"
"Damnit Mark! Everything's gotta be so cryptic with you, just gimme a straight answer for once, why didn't you tell me?"
"Does it make a difference?"
Sara threw her hands up in exasperation. He just didn't get it. She shook her head, her ponytail whipping from side to side. "Twins are different to brother and sister and you know it! They're closer, share a bond"
"The only bond I share with her is our last name and our blood" Mark said shortly
Sara looked at him carefully; he was closing her out, staring back at her through those eyes. He wasn't gonna tell her anything, nothing that he thought she should know - according to him naturally. This was the tiny part of Mark she could never reach, she'd often thought about it and now she knew; his sister, his twin, Jezebel. It was then that they heard something shattering and she found herself falling to the floor hard. She tried to focus and clear her buzzing head. When she tried to get to her feet, someone hit her in the head and she crumpled to the floor.
*
Stacy smiled broadly as stepped further forward. Trish was too gob-smacked to speak. "Why the surprise Stratus?"
"Why are you here Keibler?" Trish shot back shakily recovering
"Here to help a friend, you?"
"The same"
"Pity we're not on the same side, could do some good work together"
"Oh, you mean beat more innocent people up and kidnap them? Sorry, isn't my style"
"How do you know? You'll never know until you try"
Trish shook her head in disbelief as she took in the figure before her; Stacy Keibler, clad in a loose green button up shirt and black pants, smiling. But the smile was different, to be honest, it was creepy. She couldn't believe this was the same girl she'd joked with backstage, had fun with, now inviting her to be a psycho.
"You gonna let me through Stacy? So I can find Matt?"
Stacy laughed, her light girlish laugh and walked right up to Trish. "That name isn't mine sweetheart and why would I want to do that, when I can have so much fun?"
Trish took a step backwards. It really wasn't Stacy talking, it seemed like someone else yet instinctively Trish knew it wasn't an act; this girl was her friend yet was gleefully happy about the pain she had caused. She looked straight into Stacy's deep brown eyes. "I'm going to find Matt" her voice came out quiet and confident. She didn't wait for an answer; she walked towards a door she could now see across the room. As she neared her destination, a hand suddenly grabbed her from behind and whirled her around. Too off balance to put up a defense, she was clotheslined hard to the floor. It hurt a lot more than the ring canvas did, tearing a pained scream from her.
She was stunned into submission, unmoving as pain seeped into her body. Hands pulled her off the ground with a surprising amount of strength then slammed her down with a forced that winded her. She gasped for breath; Stacy had never displayed such vicious strength before. With gritted determination, Trish pushed herself off the floor, forcing herself to her feet.
Before she could move towards Stacy's smirking form, pictures flashed into Trish's mind. She saw Amy lying bleeding in the car lot, then motionless in the hospital. She saw Matt with his hands and feet taped together, lying so still it seemed there was no life in him. She saw Sara being knocked out. They were a vivid roll of suffering images. She put her hands to her head, screamed for them to stop, they wouldn't. She understood now why Amy had tried to escape, they were everywhere. Opening her eyes, she saw Stacy standing, eyes closed, arms held out in front of her, palms open. She was doing this.
With quick stumbling movements, Trish launched herself at Stacy, messily spearing her to the floor. Even though her head rang, she straddled Stacy and began punching with all she had, her anger spilling out in fisted fury. With a sudden roar, Stacy shoved Trish off with such impact that Trish crashed into a low table a way behind her. She clutched her back, unable to hide her pain. The girl she never thought was a match for her was leaving her more battered than a Jazz match. As she grappled with this logic twisting thought, she was faintly aware of footsteps then Stacy grabbed her by the neck, holding her off the ground. Stacy's eyes narrowed as she glared at the struggling blonde. Her grip tightened maliciously.
"You made a mistake"
Before she could respond, Trish felt herself flying through the air, then the juddering agony of slamming into a wall before dropping feebly to the floor. It was the shock more than the pain that she felt first, at being lifted and thrown so easily by Stacy, someone who had never shown such superior strength before. Had she hidden it from everyone?
Trish's head swam; she needed to get out and away. Before she could align her muggy thoughts, she felt sudden jarring pain in her stomach; she groggily registered the fact that someone was kicking her in the gut. She felt the air whistle as the foot came at her again, her hands shot out and grabbed it, pulling as hard as she could so that Stacy unexpectedly fell to the floor.
Scrambling to her feet, Trish moved as fast as her aching limbs and dazed mind allowed her to the door, her first thought to get out to find the others. As she neared her goal, she felt a hand grab her foot, bringing her crashing down. Stacy had turned her tactic against her. Trish could see Stacy reaching down to grab her; she reacted instantly, slapping Stacy hard across the face. There was no response, just a smile. Worry began forming in Trish's mind - she wouldn't have thought Stacy was too hard to dispose of but she was beginning to think that Stacy was the same as Jezebel; not quite human. Trish clawed at the flesh that she felt grab her. She was lifted high above Stacy's head, an action she never would have thought possible before today. She was thrown across the room, landing behind the couch. Pain exploded all over her body, making her motionless.
"Just give up Trish" the voice was calm
She wanted to, to sink into the cooling darkness. But she couldn't. Her hands shook as she tried to pull herself up using the couch. A flying vase missed her head by a hair, she ducked as it smashed to pieces against the wall behind her. She cringed at the noise, the message was clear; she was next.
*
At first she was just aware of dulled pain, then of lights blinking on and off, gently bleeps pierced her haze. Amy opened her eyes slowly, she was in the hospital, and strangely that was a relief. Judging by the darkness of the room and quietness that surrounded her, it was either extremely late at night or very early in the morning. Her neck didn't feel so fragile as before, felt more solid, a hard neck brace encasing it, keeping it in place. As she shifted around in her bed, a nurse materialized beside her.
"Welcome back! How you feeling?"
"My neck feels better"
"The surgery went very well, it's just a case of rehab now"
"Can I get out of here yet?"
The nurse smiled sympathetically. "We're going to keep you in on observation until late morning, then you should be allowed to go as long as you promise not to wrestle for at least eleven months and rehab sensibly"
Eleven months! Amy felt like everything was falling down around her. Pushing aside her dismay, she began forming a plan. Come late morning, she was going to find the others and do her bit to change things. For the better.
*
Everything was quiet again, Jeff didn't move at first. Then cautiously, he felt his way down the rest of the steps. The room was dark; he couldn't much of it because of the dim light. As he stood at the bottom of the steps, peering into the darkness, he heard movement behind him and before he could turn, felt a powerful but strangely familiar kick to his back, sending him sprawling onto the stone floor. He realized why it had felt familiar; it was a well-executed dropkick meeting its mark. As he lay still, he heard the movement again. He tried rolling out of the way but found his chest crushed to the floor as the person threw all their weight into landing on his back before leaping off, he heard the swish as they turned in the air and landed in a dark corner. This was a calculated attack, tailored for him, not one to reveal the attacker in their charging- in-fists-flying glory.
He coughed hoarsely, massaging his chest with his fist. He needed to focus, listen to where the attack was coming from and where it disappeared. Although he was dressed in black and the room was dark, Jeff found he was lying in a dusty pale sun patch, another of his attacker's calculated intentions or a lucky kick? He didn't have time to wonder. He quickly crawled into the nearest dark area, pressing himself into the wall. His attacked was silent, that itself was worrying. Jeff shifted his uncomfortable position, his already sore leg glowing with pain from the fall. That was all his opponent needed. He heard the movement, fast footsteps he'd worked out it was, but he couldn't move; moving out of the black shield of the shadows gave his attacker an easier target to hit. He kept still, hoping for the best.
Suddenly the footsteps stopped, then his attacker landed almost on top of him, somehow landing a foot against the wall either side of Jeff's waist, a hand either side of his head. The intimidating presence filled Jeff's senses for a few seconds before the figure back-flipped off the wall, before Jeff could even touch him, seeming to disappear into thin air. Then Jeff realized, they'd landed on the high shelving that was nailed to the wall all around the room and they were now crouching in wait. He was stuck in a complex tactical mind game, preventing him from even attempting to rescue his brother.
"Guess I'll have to match them" Jeff mused, trying to ignore the pain in his body. His opponent was trying to goad him into responding irrationally and messily, making mistakes so they could capitalize. He smiled; he could do with a challenge.
*
It was so delightful when everything went to plan. Jezebel smiled to herself. Splitting the pack and picking out the individuals was fun, thrilling to watch them being broken by her friends. She was relishing it. Mark had no idea what was happening, he was alone in his anger as he knelt beside his wife. Jezebel laughed silently, not moving her folded limbs that fitted so perfectly in the dark wood cubbyhole so high in the ceiling, it gave her an exquisite view of Mark. He had never learnt that she was always a move ahead of him, waiting for him to do all she anticipated. Like a cat playing with a mouse, it was inevitable that soon a kill would be made. And she was only sharpening her claws.
Read, review, enjoy! Huge thanks to my great reviewers for their encouraging inspiring words, you make me wanna write more! Big thanks to Liz for her constant reviews, they always make me smile, keep it up girl!! Thanks also to the Fallen Angel for so diligently updating for me, I'll keep the faith this time I promise, hope ur writer's block has disappeared!! Keep them reviews coming guys!
"It's cold!" Sara squeaked out, wrapping her arms around herself. Mark couldn't help laughing at his wife. She looked indignantly up at him and smacked him in the chest. "What are you laughing at? I know it was a girlie- stating-of-the-obvious, but shit it's cold!" She unknotted the green hooded jacket from around her waist and pulled it on, zipping it up tightly. The goose bumps began disappearing but still. "Just like before" she murmured.
The feeling of inner coldness was the same as when Mark had said that name. They were on her territory, Sara smothered a grin, they were in her yard. Mark was looking around, everything was so gray and there didn't appear to be any lighting fixtures. She kept her world in darkness.
"Which way do you think?" he asked
Sara shrugged her shoulders in response. "How should I know? She's your sister"
"She's my twin" he absent-mindedly corrected her
Sara spun around to face him, her eyes wide. "She's your twin? And you didn't tell me this because."
"Because of what she is"
"Damnit Mark! Everything's gotta be so cryptic with you, just gimme a straight answer for once, why didn't you tell me?"
"Does it make a difference?"
Sara threw her hands up in exasperation. He just didn't get it. She shook her head, her ponytail whipping from side to side. "Twins are different to brother and sister and you know it! They're closer, share a bond"
"The only bond I share with her is our last name and our blood" Mark said shortly
Sara looked at him carefully; he was closing her out, staring back at her through those eyes. He wasn't gonna tell her anything, nothing that he thought she should know - according to him naturally. This was the tiny part of Mark she could never reach, she'd often thought about it and now she knew; his sister, his twin, Jezebel. It was then that they heard something shattering and she found herself falling to the floor hard. She tried to focus and clear her buzzing head. When she tried to get to her feet, someone hit her in the head and she crumpled to the floor.
*
Stacy smiled broadly as stepped further forward. Trish was too gob-smacked to speak. "Why the surprise Stratus?"
"Why are you here Keibler?" Trish shot back shakily recovering
"Here to help a friend, you?"
"The same"
"Pity we're not on the same side, could do some good work together"
"Oh, you mean beat more innocent people up and kidnap them? Sorry, isn't my style"
"How do you know? You'll never know until you try"
Trish shook her head in disbelief as she took in the figure before her; Stacy Keibler, clad in a loose green button up shirt and black pants, smiling. But the smile was different, to be honest, it was creepy. She couldn't believe this was the same girl she'd joked with backstage, had fun with, now inviting her to be a psycho.
"You gonna let me through Stacy? So I can find Matt?"
Stacy laughed, her light girlish laugh and walked right up to Trish. "That name isn't mine sweetheart and why would I want to do that, when I can have so much fun?"
Trish took a step backwards. It really wasn't Stacy talking, it seemed like someone else yet instinctively Trish knew it wasn't an act; this girl was her friend yet was gleefully happy about the pain she had caused. She looked straight into Stacy's deep brown eyes. "I'm going to find Matt" her voice came out quiet and confident. She didn't wait for an answer; she walked towards a door she could now see across the room. As she neared her destination, a hand suddenly grabbed her from behind and whirled her around. Too off balance to put up a defense, she was clotheslined hard to the floor. It hurt a lot more than the ring canvas did, tearing a pained scream from her.
She was stunned into submission, unmoving as pain seeped into her body. Hands pulled her off the ground with a surprising amount of strength then slammed her down with a forced that winded her. She gasped for breath; Stacy had never displayed such vicious strength before. With gritted determination, Trish pushed herself off the floor, forcing herself to her feet.
Before she could move towards Stacy's smirking form, pictures flashed into Trish's mind. She saw Amy lying bleeding in the car lot, then motionless in the hospital. She saw Matt with his hands and feet taped together, lying so still it seemed there was no life in him. She saw Sara being knocked out. They were a vivid roll of suffering images. She put her hands to her head, screamed for them to stop, they wouldn't. She understood now why Amy had tried to escape, they were everywhere. Opening her eyes, she saw Stacy standing, eyes closed, arms held out in front of her, palms open. She was doing this.
With quick stumbling movements, Trish launched herself at Stacy, messily spearing her to the floor. Even though her head rang, she straddled Stacy and began punching with all she had, her anger spilling out in fisted fury. With a sudden roar, Stacy shoved Trish off with such impact that Trish crashed into a low table a way behind her. She clutched her back, unable to hide her pain. The girl she never thought was a match for her was leaving her more battered than a Jazz match. As she grappled with this logic twisting thought, she was faintly aware of footsteps then Stacy grabbed her by the neck, holding her off the ground. Stacy's eyes narrowed as she glared at the struggling blonde. Her grip tightened maliciously.
"You made a mistake"
Before she could respond, Trish felt herself flying through the air, then the juddering agony of slamming into a wall before dropping feebly to the floor. It was the shock more than the pain that she felt first, at being lifted and thrown so easily by Stacy, someone who had never shown such superior strength before. Had she hidden it from everyone?
Trish's head swam; she needed to get out and away. Before she could align her muggy thoughts, she felt sudden jarring pain in her stomach; she groggily registered the fact that someone was kicking her in the gut. She felt the air whistle as the foot came at her again, her hands shot out and grabbed it, pulling as hard as she could so that Stacy unexpectedly fell to the floor.
Scrambling to her feet, Trish moved as fast as her aching limbs and dazed mind allowed her to the door, her first thought to get out to find the others. As she neared her goal, she felt a hand grab her foot, bringing her crashing down. Stacy had turned her tactic against her. Trish could see Stacy reaching down to grab her; she reacted instantly, slapping Stacy hard across the face. There was no response, just a smile. Worry began forming in Trish's mind - she wouldn't have thought Stacy was too hard to dispose of but she was beginning to think that Stacy was the same as Jezebel; not quite human. Trish clawed at the flesh that she felt grab her. She was lifted high above Stacy's head, an action she never would have thought possible before today. She was thrown across the room, landing behind the couch. Pain exploded all over her body, making her motionless.
"Just give up Trish" the voice was calm
She wanted to, to sink into the cooling darkness. But she couldn't. Her hands shook as she tried to pull herself up using the couch. A flying vase missed her head by a hair, she ducked as it smashed to pieces against the wall behind her. She cringed at the noise, the message was clear; she was next.
*
At first she was just aware of dulled pain, then of lights blinking on and off, gently bleeps pierced her haze. Amy opened her eyes slowly, she was in the hospital, and strangely that was a relief. Judging by the darkness of the room and quietness that surrounded her, it was either extremely late at night or very early in the morning. Her neck didn't feel so fragile as before, felt more solid, a hard neck brace encasing it, keeping it in place. As she shifted around in her bed, a nurse materialized beside her.
"Welcome back! How you feeling?"
"My neck feels better"
"The surgery went very well, it's just a case of rehab now"
"Can I get out of here yet?"
The nurse smiled sympathetically. "We're going to keep you in on observation until late morning, then you should be allowed to go as long as you promise not to wrestle for at least eleven months and rehab sensibly"
Eleven months! Amy felt like everything was falling down around her. Pushing aside her dismay, she began forming a plan. Come late morning, she was going to find the others and do her bit to change things. For the better.
*
Everything was quiet again, Jeff didn't move at first. Then cautiously, he felt his way down the rest of the steps. The room was dark; he couldn't much of it because of the dim light. As he stood at the bottom of the steps, peering into the darkness, he heard movement behind him and before he could turn, felt a powerful but strangely familiar kick to his back, sending him sprawling onto the stone floor. He realized why it had felt familiar; it was a well-executed dropkick meeting its mark. As he lay still, he heard the movement again. He tried rolling out of the way but found his chest crushed to the floor as the person threw all their weight into landing on his back before leaping off, he heard the swish as they turned in the air and landed in a dark corner. This was a calculated attack, tailored for him, not one to reveal the attacker in their charging- in-fists-flying glory.
He coughed hoarsely, massaging his chest with his fist. He needed to focus, listen to where the attack was coming from and where it disappeared. Although he was dressed in black and the room was dark, Jeff found he was lying in a dusty pale sun patch, another of his attacker's calculated intentions or a lucky kick? He didn't have time to wonder. He quickly crawled into the nearest dark area, pressing himself into the wall. His attacked was silent, that itself was worrying. Jeff shifted his uncomfortable position, his already sore leg glowing with pain from the fall. That was all his opponent needed. He heard the movement, fast footsteps he'd worked out it was, but he couldn't move; moving out of the black shield of the shadows gave his attacker an easier target to hit. He kept still, hoping for the best.
Suddenly the footsteps stopped, then his attacker landed almost on top of him, somehow landing a foot against the wall either side of Jeff's waist, a hand either side of his head. The intimidating presence filled Jeff's senses for a few seconds before the figure back-flipped off the wall, before Jeff could even touch him, seeming to disappear into thin air. Then Jeff realized, they'd landed on the high shelving that was nailed to the wall all around the room and they were now crouching in wait. He was stuck in a complex tactical mind game, preventing him from even attempting to rescue his brother.
"Guess I'll have to match them" Jeff mused, trying to ignore the pain in his body. His opponent was trying to goad him into responding irrationally and messily, making mistakes so they could capitalize. He smiled; he could do with a challenge.
*
It was so delightful when everything went to plan. Jezebel smiled to herself. Splitting the pack and picking out the individuals was fun, thrilling to watch them being broken by her friends. She was relishing it. Mark had no idea what was happening, he was alone in his anger as he knelt beside his wife. Jezebel laughed silently, not moving her folded limbs that fitted so perfectly in the dark wood cubbyhole so high in the ceiling, it gave her an exquisite view of Mark. He had never learnt that she was always a move ahead of him, waiting for him to do all she anticipated. Like a cat playing with a mouse, it was inevitable that soon a kill would be made. And she was only sharpening her claws.
Read, review, enjoy! Huge thanks to my great reviewers for their encouraging inspiring words, you make me wanna write more! Big thanks to Liz for her constant reviews, they always make me smile, keep it up girl!! Thanks also to the Fallen Angel for so diligently updating for me, I'll keep the faith this time I promise, hope ur writer's block has disappeared!! Keep them reviews coming guys!